


the difference between shooting stars and satellites

by cherryvanilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 05, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: The first time they watch the stars together Dean is twelve and Sammy is eight.





	the difference between shooting stars and satellites

**Author's Note:**

> For backrose_17 on LJ. Prompt: _I'd give you the stars if I could_.
> 
> Thanks to Rena for beta <333

The first time they watch the stars together Dean is twelve and Sammy is eight. They’re holed up in a two bedroom in Georgia. It’s just after seven and Dad’s already passed out in front of the TV after consuming the pasta Dean made for dinner. The fettuccine had been a little too hard and the Ragu sauce was nothing to write home about, but Sammy still smiled at Dean as he shoveled each forkful into his mouth. 

Now they’re lying outside in the grass, the night mild and the stars twinkling in the sky this far outside the city.

“Do you think the stars look the same everywhere, Dean?”

Dean turns his head, shoots Sammy a crooked grin. “I dunno, nerd, why don’t you tell me.”

Sam shoves at his shoulder. “Shut up. I mean, we live all over, you know? I guess I just wonder if they’ll be the same when we look at them in Nebraska.”

It’s where they’re heading next month. Dean knows Sam doesn’t want to go, is already tired of leaving school so much. 

Dean remembers learning in a science class that stars are balls of hot gas that eventually burn out after a few billion years. The dimmer the star, the closer they are to the end of their life.

These stars look kind of dim. 

“Yeah, Sammy,” he replies quietly. “They’re probably the same, watching you get even chubbier.”

“Ugh, _Dean_.”

Dean smiles and ruffles his brother’s hair.  
_______________________

The second time Sam is ten years older — slim as a jackrabbit with too long bangs and even longer limbs— and about to get on a bus. 

They sit on the hood of the Impala, waiting for the boarding call. They haven’t talked since Dean picked him up from the side of the road. 

“Hey, Dean?” Sam’s voice nowadays is brash, stubborn, angry. Dean doesn’t know what to do with this tentative tone. 

His own voice is rough when he replies. “Yeah?” 

“You think the stars will look the same in Palo Alto?”

He tenses. Sam can be a manipulative shit sometimes. 

“I think if you were worried about things changing you wouldn’t be leaving.”

They’re the last words he says to his brother before he leaves for Stanford, and as Dean watches any remaining light go out in Sam’s face he knows he’ll regret them for years to come.  
_________________________

Dean spends his first Christmas without Sam about two miles away from him, because Dad is a stubborn son of a bitch and Dean’s a chicken shit. Sam never really cared too much about Christmas to begin with, but Dean feels off-kilter without him here.

Dad’s already asleep with his best friend Jack Daniels -- in the only motel they can afford in Palo Alto -- so Dean heads to the Stanford Theatre where they’re having their annual screening of _It’s a Wonderful Life_. He wonders if Sam went this week. 

When he gets out of the movie he looks up at the stars in the sky. He thinks about George Bailey wanting to lasso the moon for Mary. 

He thinks about Sam. 

The big balls of exploding gas above are almost mocking in their brightness, and Dean walks on. He passes the Caltrain station and the sign for Stanford. It might as well be another state away.  
_________________________

The first time they kiss Sam is drunk off two beers, still mourning his dead girlfriend, and there isn’t a visible star in the Chicago sky. Sam stumbles back to the room while Dean attempts to keeps him up right. Then he trips outside the door of their shitty Motel 6 room, and falls into Dean mouth first. Dean inhales sharply, thinks _I’m going to hell_ , and grips Sam’s shoulders, pulling him closer. 

When Sam moans into his mouth, desperate, broken and drunk, Dean pulls back. He can still feel Sam’s tongue against his own. 

“Let’s get you inside, Sammy.” His voice is rough but firm.

Sam gives him a stare far too calculating for someone so drunk, and nods. 

They don’t talk about it the next morning or any morning after that.  
___________________________

When you’re dealing with Heaven, Hell, angels, and Lucifer, sometimes you need to take pleasure in the little things. So Dean will often get them a case of beers, drive off toward a bit of open sky in between jobs and sit on the hood with his little brother, their heads tilted upward. 

There’s no good excuse for them to be sitting so close, yet their shoulders brush each and every time. Sam no longer asks him about the stars, and Dean’s heart tries not to break.  
_______________________

The second time they kiss feels like an infinite amount of years after the first time. Dean suggests a vacation to Sam. A real one, not hiding out in the Bunker or hellish trips to California or Florida. 

“What, like a tropical island? Dean, you hate the beach.”

His brother has lines around his eyes now and he no longer smiles as easily as he once did. Dean wants to counter with the fact that he’s barely ever been to the beach so how can he know if truly hates it, but Sam continues on. 

“And you hate to fly is it’s not like we can go to Europe or Hawaii or something.”

Dean rubs his temple. “Jesus Christ, does this have to be so complicated? I just want us to go somewhere, okay? Let’s go to, I dunno, Colorado or something.”

Sam laughs incredulously. “And what, ski? Can you see yourself on a ski slope?”

Dean glares. “Alright, asshole, then you pick.”

Sam takes a day to deliberate and settles on Yellowstone. He takes care of the hotel reservation and buys them everything they need in order to not die while hiking. 

“If there’s a Wendigo or Sasquatch in these woods I’m going to be really pissed, Sam,” Dean says as they’re driving to the hotel. 

“Relax, the only Sasquatch will be me.”

Dean smiles at him a little too long. 

They’re staying in the Four Seasons. It’s not a hotel, it’s a goddamn _resort_. Dean has never been in the place this fancy in his life, not even during their abbreviated British Men of Letters team-up. 

“Sam, we can’t afford this,” Dean whispers furiously after someone tries to valet park his baby and he not-so-politely declines.

“Of course we can’t. But Roger Davis can.” He holds up a Gold Amex, smirking. Dean has never wanted to kiss someone more in his entire life. 

The room is huge. There are two queen beds like usual, but there’s also a jacuzzi and a fireplace and a balcony. Dean swallows hard. 

He goes out onto the balcony to get some air. Sam joins him a few moments later, holding out a beer from the mini bar for Dean while choosing wine for himself. 

“You never drink wine.”

“Maybe I’m trying new things.” His voice is far too suggestive for the discussion of beverage choices. Dean downs his beer in record time. 

The next day Sam says they should go camping. They rough it under out in the open in sleeping bags and Dean thinks about how It’s been years since they’ve done something like this. 

“Did you know that stars begin their lives as clouds of dust and gas and gravity draws them together?”

Dean’s breath catches in his chest. 

“I see you’ve learned some more about astronomy since you were a kid.”

“Learned about a lot of things.”

Dean has barely turned his head to look at Sam, small smile playing at his lips, before he’s being kissed. 

“Learned I’m tired of pretending we don’t want this.” Sam’s words are breathless and his tongue is hot as it licks into Dean’s mouth carelessly. “I’m not drunk and I _want_ this, Dean.”

Dean groans, his hand coming up to tangle in Sam’s hair. “Sammy,” he pants, kissing back blindlessly, eyes squeezed shut and heart cracked open. He sucks on Sam’s tongue in the middle of Yellowstone National Park with only the stars as their witness. 

They make out for a long time, on top of their sleeping bags, the forest peaceful around them. When it becomes clear they’re about to reach the point of no return and come in their jeans like a couple of teenagers, Dean is half-ready to pull back. Instead, he lets his little brother press him into the cold, unforgiving ground and surges upward. They groan out their orgasms into one another’s mouths and sigh each other’s names. 

Afterward, they’re sticky and gross and Dean amazingly doesn’t care. Sam has twigs in his hair and Dean has dirt marks on his knees. It’s the best first time he’s ever had. 

“You warm enough?” Sam whispers into Dean’s hair. Dean wants to to tell Sam he isn’t some fair maiden. Wants to grumble that Sam’s body is a furnace and wrapped all around Dean so how can he possibly be cold. 

“Yeah, Sammy. I’m good,” is what he says instead, voice too soft. Sam smiles against his temple.  
____________________

“Was this all some kind of setup?” Dean asks, voice suspicious, when they’re in the room next night. They’re lounging in the jacuzzi tub together, Dean’s back to Sam’s chest. They just fucked for the first time after spending the entire day in bed fooling around and trying to make sure all of this isn’t too weird. 

Dean’s come three times today so yeah, not too weird. 

“Hmm?” Sam nuzzles the side of his neck with his nose. God, his brother is such a sap. Dean smiles in spite of himself.

“This.” He waves around them. “Expensive room, fully stocked mini bar. Sex tub.”

Sam chokes on air. “ _Sex_ tub?”

“Well, we just had sex in it didn’t we?” 

Sam has no comeback. 

“So? What’s the deal, man?”

Sam sighs. “Kind of. I guess once I saw you were serious about a vacation I wanted to — go all out.”

Dean leans his head back against Sam’s shoulder and looks up at him, eyebrow raised. “You mean seduce me.”

“ _Dean!_ ”

A scandalized Sam is the best Sam. And hilarious given the places he’s had his mouth over the last hour. 

Dean bats his eyelashes. “It’s alright, baby, I know I’m irresistible.”

“You’re _impossible_ is what you are,” Sam snorts. 

They smile at one another, falling quiet. 

“But yeah,” Sam says after a few moments, voice serious. “I guess I was — hoping. That we would finally…that we’d stop...”

Dean swallows hard as Sam trails off. He should probably say something here. About how long he’s wanted Sam, about how it’s been a simmering flame within him for fucking years on end and he still sometimes dreams about that first drunken kiss. About all the reasons he had for denying this. 

But maybe none of it needs to be said anymore. Maybe, after all this time, they’re just here now and that’s that. 

“Hey, Sammy. Wanna watch the stars from Roger Davis’ fancy balcony?”

Sam looks at Dean, searching his face for something. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah, I absolutely do.”

He leans down for a soft, slow kiss which Dean gladly gives. 

It’s possibly better than giving Sam the stars. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> @ cherry_vanilla9 on Twitter & sometimesalways on 8tracks (where you’ll find lots of wincest mixes <3 )


End file.
